


Chimerical

by farmersmumz



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Grief, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2952935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farmersmumz/pseuds/farmersmumz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juuzou goes out in search of nostalgic comfort during his time of grief, post 143</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chimerical

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, please excuse the gramatical errors. I'll probably come back and do a more thorough edit. Thank you for reading, I swear I actually love Juuzou very much,,, Comment's and kudos are always appreciated.

The pitch black room bore the isolation into his veins. Silence could be just as loud as screams that tore deep into the flesh, begging for nothing but release. Juuzou sat on the couch, swaying his left leg from side to side dragging his toes across the cold floor. Ever since Shinohara was declared a vegetable Juuzou avoided the hospital completely save for a few check-ups and physical rehab with his new prosthetic leg. Upon occasion he would meander aimlessly around the hospital, trying to build up the courage to go see Shinohara but every time he convinced himself at the very last second he would turn around and find the nearest bathroom to go rest in. While he tried to regain his composure, his breath snatched straight from his lungs and cold sweat running from his temples, he couldn’t get that searing number of the hospital room out of his head. Even though he wasn’t afraid of doctors the smell of latex and antiseptic started to crawl across his skin, leaving an unbearable itch that would never be reached. 

The clock on the wall chimed, letting its bell drone throughout the whole house. The platinum blond removed himself from the couch and headed for his room. After flipping the light switch he fished around in his closet, dragging out his clothes. He pulled on his white dress shirt, his billowy jacket, his oversized slacks and...

He hurriedly started patting every pocket on his body while frantically cursing as his fingertips ran against nothing but cloth. Juuzou stepped over to his dresser and desperately began digging through every drawer, searching through socks and underwear hoping to see any trace of silver or polka dots. Finally in the very bottom drawer were the suspenders he was so desperately looking for. He let out a nervous laugh upon feeling the suspenders in his hands. He pressed them against his face and breathed in that scent of subtle cologne and off brand detergent he so fondly missed. Memories of Shinohara ebbed in his core, that gentle smile imprinting every aspect of his thoughts. 

He remembered the first time he’d asked Shinohara to clean the suspenders for him. Since he usually wore casual clothes he didn’t know to properly wash the business clothes given to him. He had been eating strawberry ice cream when a pink glop threaded from the edge on the cone and splattered across the suspenders. Luckily the white shirt was safe however now there was a pink oval shaped stain on the suspenders. Afraid he would get into trouble he tried to ditch the suspenders but it proved to be useless when he had to keep one thumb hooked in the band so they wouldn’t fall down. Eventually Shinohara drilled the truth out of him. Instead of being reprimanded Juuzou was met by a forgiving smile and an offer to have his clothes washed so that they were always proper. Juuzou opened his eyes again and started clipping the suspenders in place. 

After locking up the apartment Juuzou made his way into the dark alleys of the nights. There weren’t many people out since it was already two o’clock in the morning. Faint traces of rain descended from the sky coating the streets with a clear lacquer. The water soaked the bottom of Juuzou’s red slippers but he didn’t mind much. He walked passed a few drunkards, gritting his teeth at the obnoxious laughter that echoed into his ears. The carefree chuckles and songs among the intoxicated pairs made Juuzou grind his teeth in annoyance. The rain causes a hazy mist to blanket the city, softening the city lights into orbs of yellow and red. With every breeze that pressed against him a new chill found its way into his bones. He pulled the jacket a little closer to him in hopes of retaining some heat. The wind stung his face but he continued in his path. The roads started to become less leveled and more dips and holes appeared. A few times he almost lost his footing completely when his right foot caught on the edge of pavement. It was strange that when the bottom of his right foot scraped against the road he didn’t feel any pain. The prosthetic had taken some getting used to but he still wasn’t fully accustomed to it. A few times his slipper slid off and it wasn’t until he heard the scraping that he realized it had slipped away. The doctors advised him to wear something other than house shoes but since when did he listen to what he was told?

Alley after alley, Juuzou finally managed to locate the right road he’d been traversing for. The road was a little smoother than the alleys he’d been weaving through and his right slipper didn’t abandon ship even once. Towards the right of the pavement was a soft glow of luminescence hidden behind two opaque doors. The doors slid to the side as the small boy walked into the accommodation, finally free from the icy drizzle. Gentle music played throughout the establishment, the light chirps of piano synchronizing with a flickering fluorescence near the entrance. The store had blanched monochromatic appeal with white walls and beige tile plastering every crevice. Even the shelves that held the miscellaneous products were an eggshell shade. The only bits of color in the entire market were the black and patterns Juuzou clothed on his body. Aside from himself, Juuzou wasn’t accompanied by anyone else in the store. Even the clerk was absent from the front counter. But he didn’t mind it. He spent most of his time alone these days so it wasn’t like isolation was a foreign concept. Juuzou walked down the aisles, scanning over every shelf in search for one thing.

In the last aisle in the very back of the store was shelf holding brightly colored boxes; hues brightened with each container as if only the most colorful product would win the customer’s choice. Juuzou reached out for box after box, pressing his nose against the cardboard, inhaling any trace of scent attainable. Some boxes were too fruity, others too powerful, others too subtle. He’d almost given up on finding that perfect scent until he picked up the last box on the shelf. It was a dark blue box with a muted logo, definitely not up to par with the rest of the detergents. But as soon as the fragrance crept into his nostrils the nostalgia crept into every crevice of emotion, leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. He clutched the box as if it were his own heart, refusing to let it wander away from him even for a moment. It was as if the box wasn’t pressed close to his heart that he would wither away in the middle of the store, ceasing to exist. He quickly made his way over to the perfumes and cosmetics, hoping to end his journey soon. The mixed scents assaulted his nose but he ventured on regardless of the gradual burn. Juuzou spritzed and sprayed various colognes onto his wrists, trying to capture one specific aroma onto his skin. After thirteen spritzes from different brands of cologne there was one scent reminiscent of men’s shower gel that struck a chord. The smell brought back memories of paperwork, heat pats, scoldings and promises. Juuzou held both the detergent and cologne tightly in his small hands, only letting go so the returning clerk could scan the items. He paid the correct amount and once again trailed around the city in the rain. 

The walk back felt even longer than the walk to the store since the items in his hands carried great significance. They were symbols of normality, bound to make him feel relief while simultaneously plunging his head into darkness. After the thought filled stroll he finally made it back to his dim apartment. The apartment was warmer than the unforgiving wind and weeping drizzle but Juuzou didn’t pay any attention to the raised bumps on his flesh. He went straight into his bedroom, grasping the blanket from his bed with a rushed pace. Then he made his way to the washroom, shoving the blanket into the washer while adding scoops of detergent into the whirlpool of fabric and water. He lowered himself against the machine, patiently waiting for the next step. The churn of water and mechanical spin filled the quiet apartment. The only words spoken for a while consisted of the rattling of metal against wooden floor, escalating to an argument as the spin cycle neared its end. The washing machine silenced and Juuzou quickly removed the damp blanket and placed it inside the dryer. Although Shinohara always urged him to dry his things outside for energy conservation Juuzou wasn’t patient enough for conventional drying. Also on days it would rain he would completely forget the laundry leaving it out to the bitter cold storm. The blanket fumbled, rolling in the dryer to the beat of medium tempo drum. He leaned back against the dryer, the warm metal door heating the area in between his shoulder blades. He sat there in the dark, refusing to let neither cold nor fatigue force him to abandon his position. To pass the time he twiddled his fingertips along the thread embedded into his throat. He dug his pinky nail under one stitch, tugging at it loosely. He counted the stitches repeatedly absentmindedly, like if he didn’t count them every few minutes he would never remember. A buzz rung out, signaling the end of the drying. The platinum blond snatched the hot blanket out of the dryer and hustled to his room.

He shut the door behind him and grabbed the bottle of cologne he recently purchased. He started spraying the blanket lightly, first covering the corners of the billowy quilt and gradually spraying a few patches at random. Juuzou smelled the blanket, content with the amount of scent, not too suffocating but not too faint. He lied down onto the bed, wrapping himself with the warm blanket. He shifted in his bed, trying to get settled in the ebbing warmth above and below him. He grabbed the edge of blanket and pressed his nose into it, inhaling deeply. The scents of off brand detergent and subtle cologne whisked him away from the confines of his room and transported him into the warm embrace of the person who always looked at him with loving, proud eyes. As he drifted off to sleep he thought only of those soft, olive eyes gazing at him with tender affection. It was the most restful sleep he’d gotten in his life.


End file.
